


Just a play on words

by ekmlau



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Background Kise Ryouta/Kasamatsu Yukio, Crossdressing, Fluff, Humour, M/M, School Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-11-01 01:49:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10911864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ekmlau/pseuds/ekmlau
Summary: Kise needs help with his class play for the Kaijo school festival, so he calls on the other members of the Generation of Miracles. But there's nobody willing to play the lead male role, and, by a stroke of bad luck, the responsibility falls to Midorima!





	1. Midorima's Debut

“Midorimacchi! I’m so glad you came! And you even brought your teammate! I didn’t know you were into acting or I would have asked earlier if you wanted to-”

“Shut up, Kise.” Midorima stalked past his former team member. “I’m only here because Akashi said we should assist you. However, I will not, under any circumstances, act in this play of yours.”

Kise’s face fell. “But you'd make such a good villain...”

“I would not. That is entirely out of the question. I’ll work backstage,” declared Midorima. Noticing Kise glance at his companion, he added, “Takao begged to accompany me; I’m sure you’ll be able to find him something to do.”

Takao’s face broke into a sly grin. “He won’t admit it, but Shin-chan actually dragged me along. He _said_ he needed someone to pedal the rickshaw, but I know that he just wanted me here to keep him company!”

“Of course not, idiot.” Midorima flushed slightly and cleared his throat. “That’s completely irrelevant. And why should we even be helping you, Kise? This is _your_ play for _your_ school festival.”

Kise moaned. “Our class couldn’t decide on an activity, so our teacher pulled it out of a hat. But hardly any of my classmates wanted to be part of the play and they all found jobs with other classes.” Kise’s whinging was insufferable, thought Midorima, wishing – not for the first time – that he hadn’t turned up after all. “Even Kasamatsu won’t help me!”

“That's because I’m a third-year and I’m _busy_. Unlike you, you lazy nuisance!” The pen Kasamatsu hurled across the room hit Kise on the back of the head, only causing more yelping and whining from its victim. “And this is _our_ room. We’re trying to work and you’re just distracting us. Go back to where you came from.”

Takao chuckled softly as Kise pouted, but Midorima just sighed. His star sign, Cancer, had been ranked last for the day; he shouldn’t have even left the house in the first place. And, to make matters worse, he had somehow misplaced his lucky item, a bottle of glasses cleaner. Suddenly uncomfortable, he fidgeted slightly with the tape on his fingers as they followed Kise down the hallway.

Takao, almost seeming to read his mind, grinned. “Missing your lucky item already, Shin-chan? You nervous that you’re gonna have to act in the play or something?”

“Idiot.” Midorima wished he was as sure of himself as he made out to be. With his luck, he could just earn himself a place in the play – something absolutely humiliating, like a talking tree.

The other members of the former Generation of Miracles were already waiting by the time Kise arrived with Midorima and Takao. Aomine and Murasakibara looked about as excited as Midorima felt to be there.

“Kazunari,” Akashi intoned smoothly. “We’re all glad to have your assistance for the next few days. I’m sure Ryouta would greatly appreciate it if you helped the backstage crew, so could you go there now and start work?”

It was posed as a command, rather than a polite request, and Midorima felt a slight twinge of dread as Takao was escorted out. Akashi tended to demand privacy when it came to important discussions, and he had a growing suspicion about the content of this particular meeting.

These suspicions were confirmed when Akashi announced, “Now that we’re all together, I should explain what’s going to happen. Ryouta informed me earlier that nobody from his class has volunteered to take the lead role in the play. Naturally, it should fall to Ryouta himself, but since he’s busy getting everything in order, I thought it’d be better if those of us remaining drew lots.”

“Eh?! Akashicchi? I thought we agreed that you’d take care of all the organisation and I’d act!” protested Kise, clearly shocked. “This isn’t what we decided! There’s no point in forcing someone to do it if they don’t want to!”

Akashi’s eyes glinted. “That’s where you’re wrong, Ryouta. Have some backbone. You asked us here to help you, having already failed to convince your classmates to participate. If you keep allowing people to walk over you just because they don’t want to do something, you won’t get anywhere in life. We’ll proceed per my previous statement. Whoever gets chosen will play the lead role, no exceptions. Now, then, shall we?”

Reluctantly, Kise rummaged through the paper bag offered to him. “The lead role will be played by… Midorimacchi!”

Midorima’s throat tightened. If he’d kept better care of his lucky item, there was no way he’d possibly be in this situation now. “No.” He turned to leave. “Absolutely not. Takao,” he called, “we’re leaving–”

“Shintarou.” Akashi’s tone darkened. “We just discussed this, and nobody made any objections.”

“You’re not _scared_ , are you, Midorima-kun?” Kuroko wondered. “It’s understandable to get stage fright, but I wouldn’t see that happening to you…”

Midorima felt himself getting flustered. “Of course I don’t get stage fright. I just don’t want to take part in something so ridiculous.”

“Are you worried that people are going to see you or something?” Aomine teased. “Don’t be an idiot. Nobody’s actually going to come watch this play. Just do it and save everyone the trouble.”

Murasakibara put down his bag of chips, suddenly interested in the conversation. “Isn’t it obvious? Mido-chin doesn’t want to look stupid in front of Taka-chin.”

There was a momentary silence, as the others considered Murasakibara’s statement. Kuroko whispered something to Kise, and Midorima’s face heated, though he wasn’t quite sure why. He tried to think of an appropriate response, but, as usual in these sorts of situations, he couldn’t come up with anything better than a vexed mutter of “Idiots.”

~

“Really, Shin-chan?” Takao’s eyes widened in amazement. “I can’t believe you agreed to that, after all your earlier objections to acting!”

Midorima averted his gaze. “I didn’t agree to it. Akashi forced me to take part.”

Takao sighed, a sudden jealousy stirring. “The influential Akashi Seijuurou!” Despite the unexpected darkening of his mood, he managed to force a bright tone. “Is there _anyone_ else that you respect that much? Me, for instance?” When Midorima didn’t respond, he added jokingly, “Well, at least you value my company enough to insist I come here with you.”

Midorima only shrugged, and Takao struggled to keep up his cheerful façade. He knew Midorima was just sulking because he didn’t want to act in the play, but he wished he could get some sort of response out of him – even if it was just his standard reply of “Idiot”.

It was hard enough that Midorima hadn’t even seemed to notice Takao’s flirting attempts for the past few months, but honestly – failing to hold a conversation just because of an annoyance over a school play? What kind of friendship was this?

A very important one, he reminded himself for what felt like the hundredth time. Just because Midorima was totally oblivious to his feelings – or, for some reason, was pretending he hadn’t noticed – it didn’t mean they couldn’t still be friends.

“Hey, Shin-chan?” he ventured. “Are–”

“It’s a romance,” Midorima blurted suddenly, immediately looking away from Takao. “I’m the main character and… I have to kiss Momoi.”

“ _What_?” spluttered Takao. “You both agreed to that?”

“I’ve already said, Akashi forced us into it.” Midorima refused to meet his gaze. “But… there’s no way I’m doing it.”

“Oh? Do you like someone else, then?” Takao knew it was better not to tease Midorima about it, but he couldn’t help himself.

“No. Obviously.”

“Well, what’s the problem?”

“Nothing. Why did I even bother telling you in the first place?” Midorima got to his feet.

Takao felt his heart sink. Now he’d managed to offend Midorima. “Wait, Shin-chan! I’m sorry, alright? I get that you don’t want to do it, so I won’t say anything. But please, don’t leave!” He reddened straight away, upon realising what he’d said. Begging Midorima to stay? Now _he_ was the one sounding like a character in a romance play. Luckily, Midorima hadn’t seemed to notice, so he offered hastily, “I’ll help you learn your lines, if you want.”

“No. I haven’t even read it through – and I don’t plan on doing so now that I know what I have to do.”

“At least _read_ it! And you’ll have to learn your lines at some point, so you might as well do it now.” That wasn’t really the truth. Takao hated to admit it, but he felt a little left out with all Midorima’s former teammates around him. Especially now that Akashi had personally excluded him when he sent him off to work backstage.

He snatched the script out of Midorima’s grasp and flicked through it. “Who even wrote this, anyway?”

Midorima shrugged. “Kise’s classmate. Now give it back.”

“Come on, Shin-chan, give it a try. Now, I’m guessing you’re… Otsuka Yuuto, and the female lead is… Kojima Hirano.” He gave a little laugh, skimming through the pages. “This is perfect. So… it seems like it’s set in some sort of ‘fantasy’ world, but I don’t understand what’s really going on with that… Otsuka is a cheerful guy trying to gain the attention of Kojima, the girl he likes… But because he’s so loud and bright, she just finds him kinda annoying and hasn’t realised he’s actually trying to flirt with her. Ha…” He chuckled softly, and said under his breath, “Sounds a little like us.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry.” He cleared his throat and turned to a page near the end of the script. “Anyway, it’s got a cliché ending – they confess their undying love and share a tender kiss.” He chortled and grinned brightly at Midorima to hide his gnawing jealousy. “I bet you’ll just love sharing that with Momoi, Shin-chan. But you’ve probably kissed someone before, so it doesn’t matter too much, right?”

Midorima averted his gaze, reddening.

“You haven’t?!” Takao gasped. “You can’t be serious! Oh, god…”

 _I can’t let Shin-chan’s first kiss be Momoi!_ his mind screamed. _I hate it enough that they have to kiss in the first place – but this is too much!_

“Well, then, let’s practise!” He tried to change the subject. “I’ll be Kojima, so you can get to know your lines without having to learn them with Momoi.”

_And because, more than anything, I want to hear you say them to me, Shin-chan._


	2. Matchmaking

“Otsuka-kun, I think I might be in love with you.”

Midorima choked a little on his words as he replied, “Ko-Kojima-san, it took you long enough…”

“Shin-chan!” Takao chastised. “You’re meant to say it more brightly!”

“Ko-Kojima-san–” began Midorima, only to be immediately interrupted by Takao.

“Don’t _stutter_ so much! Make it sound gentler, Shin-chan – you’re so tense. You’re Otsuka, who’s liked Kojima the whole time, so you’ve got to sound more relieved and even a little surprised when she confesses to you. Act like you always wanted her to say that to you, but you never actually thought she would. And you could actually _smile_ a bit to reinforce your words.”

Takao knew he was being a little harsh, but he couldn’t resist making Midorima repeat his lines. Even if it took all day, he wanted nothing more than to help Midorima perfect those ridiculously clichéd lines – just for the chance to hear his Shin-chan speak fondly to him.

It was like being confessed to over and over again, and he wished, so badly, for it to be real. To have those words directed not at the fictional Kojima Hirano, but at him, Takao Kazunari.

 _‘I love you, Takao.’_ It was perfect, so perfect, and he almost swooned imagining it. But he was brought back to reality by Midorima’s abrupt question.

“Why are you doing this, Takao?”

It couldn’t have been more obvious to anybody else – he was purposely spending time on the conversations between Otsuka and Kojima, demanding perfect flow of Midorima’s sentences, and wanting him to retain eye-contact as they practised – but clearly, the oblivious idiot hadn’t noticed a thing. “So that you’ll do well in the play, of course!” he replied, before adding slyly, “It’s not because I _like_ you or anything, you _tsundere_.”

When Midorima didn’t even blink, Takao resigned himself to the fact that the only way Midorima would finally notice him would be an outright confession. Such straightforwardness wasn’t really his preferred course of action – he’d rather just flirt teasingly until the other realised – but it seemed that was his only hope.

And unless he was prepared for Momoi to steal Midorima’s first kiss, he had to achieve this in less than three days.

~

During their lunch break, Midorima was cold and sullen – though this wasn’t any different to usual. Takao’s rather sorry attempts at making conversation didn’t seem to work, and Midorima’s mood only worsened when Kise and Akashi arrived.

“Having fun, Midorimacchi?” Kise inquired brightly, to no avail. He sighed dramatically. “Don’t tell me you’re _still_ sulking about having to act! That’s just the way it is.”

“Indeed, Shintarou.” Akashi’s eyes gleamed dangerously. “We all expect you to put effort into your role. I, for one, will be most displeased if you fail to live up to these requirements.”

“Ah, Akashicchi! Don’t be so harsh!” Kise beseeched. “If you make Midorimacchi angry, he’ll just refuse to act!”

Akashi shrugged lightly. “I’m sure Shintarou understands how important it is for him to behave well.”

To Takao’s delight, Midorima’s frown deepened on hearing Akashi’s statement – clearly, _his_ Shin-chan wasn’t so impressed with Akashi after all. He knew his thoughts were petty, but he couldn’t help the twinge of irritation he felt each time the other two interacted. He felt a slight smile pull on the corners of his mouth as Midorima glowered in response to Akashi’s imperious stare.

Perhaps later he’d try to tell him how he felt – now that he was fairly sure Midorima wasn’t pleased with Akashi. At least that gave him some hope.

But apparently, Akashi’s Emperor Eye wasn’t limited to the court, and he flicked his head around, demanding, “What exactly is it that you find so amusing, Kazunari?”

Takao swallowed hard. “Nothing.” He tried to meet Akashi’s eyes, but found that his own gaze faltered. “Nothing at all.”

It was unlikely, and there wasn’t really any evidence, but if Akashi had ever felt the same way he did about Midorima, Takao knew he would have no chance competing against his commanding demeanour. And he found very little comfort in knowing that in that situation, it was possible that Midorima would only agree to be with Akashi out of respect for him.

Even if Midorima was irritated with him for forcing him to act.

He tried to dispel such thoughts, but it seemed that Akashi had read him once again. “You shouldn’t worry, Kazunari,” he murmured, so softly that only Takao could hear. “I’m not trying to take your precious Shintarou away from you.”

“I certainly hope not.” Takao grinned, but there was a hint of menace in his smile.

“Ah… look, Akashicchi, it’s Kurokocchi and Aominecchi – how about we go sit near them?” Kise interrupted suddenly, noticing the tension in the atmosphere.

“Heh…?” Akashi shot him a quizzical glance. “Sure…”

~

Akashi had a feeling his reassuring statement hadn’t been so reassuring after all. He’d been trying to let Takao know that he wasn’t vying for Midorima’s attention, but something told him it had come across as more of a threat. He wasn’t _trying_ to sound condescending; those sorts of words just happened to come naturally to him, but he knew that if he wanted to help in any way, he would really have to make an effort to show Takao that he wasn’t his enemy.

It didn’t help that everyone seemed to think he was interested in Midorima. They’d been nothing more than friends in middle school, but their former teammates clearly thought that playing shogi together and competing for top marks signified something else.

Akashi wanted to help make Midorima and Takao’s relationship work out – mostly for them, but partly to show the others that he had never had any personal interest in Midorima. Then, perhaps, they could be friends without feeling the ever-watchful gazes of the others, wondering if they were just friends, or something more.

Due to his rapid change in personality, Akashi felt a little alienated when it came to considering other people’s emotions. He didn’t choose to be overly intimidating, really; it was more of a way to mask his social ineptness. In fact, although he hated to admit it, it was quite likely that this awkwardness was what was getting in the way of him forming his own relationship with someone else and proving that he wasn’t interested in Midorima.

And if he’d already lost Takao’s trust, helping their relationship to move along could prove to be quite challenging.

~

How could one person be so stupid? Kise wondered in exasperation. Takao’s crush on Midorima was so blatantly obvious it made him cringe. _Honestly_.

“I’ve got to do something about this,” he muttered, leaning back on his chair and earning a confused look from Kasamatsu.

“About your own laziness?” he quipped. “I’m sure you’ve got work to do, so I don’t know why you’re hanging around in here again. And stop swinging on your chair. It’s distracting.”

Kise’s eyes widened. “Oh! Really? Are you _distracted_ by me, Kasamatsu-senpai?”

Kasamatsu growled and kicked him from under the table. “You’re annoying. Get out of here already.”

“But I want to talk to you!” Kise pleaded.

“Fine,” grumbled Kasamatsu. “If this is anything stupid–”

“I need to get Midorimacchi to notice Takao!” blurted Kise. “He’s so oblivious it kills me, so I want to–”

“No. Mind your own business.”

“But _senpai_ …” Kise whined. “You can’t just let them continue like this! Think about Takao. You don’t know what it’s like to love someone who hasn’t even noticed and just thinks you’re annoying!”

“And you’d understand? Don’t be stupid.”

 _My point exactly_ , thought Kise, rolling his eyes. “Don’t you have _any_ ideas?”

Kasamatsu shrugged. “Tell Takao to confess?”

“You’re _hopeless_.” Kise kicked the table in frustration.

“That’s no way to speak to your senpai,” Kasamatsu snapped. “Do you want my help or not?”

Kise pouted. “No!” he shot back petulantly. “I can deal with this myself!”

Once outside in the corridor, Kise leaned against the wall and sighed. The easiest thing to do would be to ask Midorima himself what he thought about Takao, and perhaps that would trigger some sort of realisation. But a straight question like that would only increase Midorima’s self-consciousness. Really, the only option was what Kasamatsu had suggested – that he tell Takao to confess.

All of that would be for nothing if Midorima didn’t feel the same way, he realised, before laughing at his own stupidity. Of course Midorima felt the same way. But maybe he was just yet to understand that himself. In fact, Kise decided, maybe exactly what Midorima needed was to be put into a situation where he would be forced to understand.

Like a play.

Maybe he did have some sort of idea after all.


	3. Kise's 'Flawless' Planning

Kise had to wait almost all afternoon for the perfect opportunity to put his plan into action, and by six that evening he had nearly given up entirely. He was just about to resign himself to the fact that it would never work, when, in the middle of a run-through, Momoi suddenly blurted, “I can’t do this with you anymore, Midorin! Your acting is _awful_ and your lines sound robotic! You don’t fit your character at all!”

“ _Huh_?” Midorima’s face flushed immediately. “Speak for yourself, but at least I _know_ my lines!” he retorted.

“Well, if you know them so well, why aren’t you saying them properly? Otsuka’s meant to be flirting with Kojima, but you just sound so dull!” Momoi stamped her foot in exasperation.

“I’m only getting thrown off because _you_ keep acting like _you’re_ the one flirting! If you do it, I can’t! _You’re_ the one getting everything wrong!”

Kise clapped his hands together. “Okay, okay. Stop fighting already. Midorimacchi, you could put a little more effort into acting like you mean what you’re saying. And Momoicchi, I know it’s frustrating you that his acting’s a little forced, but you’ve both only had today to learn your lines, so don’t be so harsh on him. And Midorimacchi has a point – Kojima’s a shy character, so maybe if you try to sound less, well… flirty, it might–”

“So this is my fault now?” she demanded, red-faced.

Kise stuttered. “Ah – ah – that’s not what I meant… I’m just trying to–”

“Fine.” Momoi pouted and threw down her script. “If you don’t like my acting, I won’t act!”

She stormed off the stage and Kise weakly attempted to call her back, but inside he was celebrating. Finally, he’d found an opportunity to try out his idea. He shook his head, feigning despair, and moaned, “This is awful! If we have to call in someone new now, they’ll only have two days until the performance – and that won’t be enough time. Even three days was hard, but at least it gave Midorimacchi time to memorise his lines.”

There was a momentary silence, before Kuroko suggested, “Didn’t you say that your classmates wrote it? Couldn’t one of them act in it?”

Kise sighed dramatically. “Well, the reason I asked Momoicchi to play the lead role was because everyone who took part in writing it refused to act. And there’s no way anyone from another class would want to.”

 _Honestly_ , he thought, grinning to himself, _I’m better at acting than both those idiots. Nobody would suspect that I actually wanted this to happen!_

He gasped, as though a thought had just occurred to him. “Oh! Midorimacchi, wasn’t Takao practising with you when you learnt your lines?”

Midorima nodded slowly. “He did, but I don’t see how–”

“Well then!” Kise exclaimed gleefully. “Takao knows the part, and he’s practised with Midorima, so we can just ask him to play Kojima! It works out perfectly!”

~

“What the hell are you thinking, Kise?” demanded Midorima. “I can’t do that. Absolutely not. There’s no way I’m doing this.”

Kise’s eyes widened. “What? Why?”

“Because Takao’s a _guy_ – and so am I!”

Takao couldn’t understand why Kise seemed so shocked by Midorima’s reaction. Wasn’t it obvious that Midorima would refuse to do something like that? But he still couldn’t control the feeling of despair that suddenly filled him. He hadn’t expected Midorima to actually _like_ him, but he’d never considered that perhaps the reason Midorima had been ignoring his obvious flirting was because they were the same gender.

He’d been stupid for worrying that Midorima liked Akashi – but even stupider for thinking that he even had a chance with him in the first place.

“There’s no point,” Takao heard himself say through the haze in his mind. “Shin-chan obviously doesn’t want me to do it, so don’t try to reason with him.”

He rose shakily from his seat, and slowly exited the room, managing to hold his composure until he reached the end of the corridor. He started to run, and somehow, though he had no idea where he was going, ended up outside, the bright sunlight making his eyes sting.

Or was he crying?

He lay face up on the grass, shaking despite the warmth of the sun. He had hoped for so long that one day he would be able to tell Midorima how he felt, and that perhaps Midorima would feel the same way. That was impossible now, so maybe it would be better if he just moved on. There was no point in dwelling on things that would never happen.

But as hard as he tried to stop thinking about Midorima, he couldn’t. He just kept remembering all the times they had spent together, from the moment they met. Even if Midorima wanted nothing to do with him, Takao would never be able to forget a single thing about him – from his unnatural dedication to the Oha-Asa horoscope and the way he obsessively taped his fingers, to how he would blush and avert his gaze when flattered.

He knew that nothing would really change from Midorima’s perspective, because Takao would still be there to pull the rickshaw and carry his lucky items, but Takao knew that things wouldn’t be the same anymore. He wouldn’t be able to joke around without fearing that his flirting disgusted Midorima, and he wouldn’t have that worthless sliver of hope that Midorima’s rare smiles were actually directed at him.

Takao heard someone calling his name, but ignored it. If whoever it was thought they could make him feel better, there was no point in disappointing them. He knew all too well what it was like to be disappointed.

The voice grew louder, and Takao remained silent. There really wasn’t any point in talking to anyone. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want anyone to know how much it had hurt him. The only person who deserved to know was Midorima, but telling him would only make it worse. Midorima probably wouldn’t even want to be friends with him anymore if Takao told him how he truly felt.

“Takao. There you are.” It was Kise. “I just thought you might want to talk–”

“No.”

“Oh?” Kise’s eyes were filled with genuine concern. “Are you sure?”

Takao blinked the tears away from his eyes. “You wouldn’t understand, so there’s no point in telling you.” Even as he said it, he knew he really did want to tell him. He laughed weakly. “I feel really stupid, you know. For thinking I had a chance with Shin-chan.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want to talk.”

“I changed my mind.”

“No matter what, Midorimacchi will always be your friend,” Kise said, sitting down beside him. “He says you’re a nuisance and acts like he doesn’t care about you, but he does. Maybe nothing will change the way you feel about him, but even if he doesn’t feel the same way, he’s not going to suddenly stop thinking of you as his friend.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Kise laughed at Takao’s despondency. “Do you think I don’t know how you feel? How else would I handle Kasamatsu? He’s my best friend but he’s an idiot and doesn’t understand how much he means to me. And, to be honest, he doesn’t know how much I mean to him either. I think you’ll find Midorimacchi’s a lot like that.”

Takao sighed. “But Kasamatsu actually _likes_ you, and it’s obvious.”

“Everything’s obvious to outsiders,” Kise pointed out. “To me, it’s obvious that Midorimacchi likes you. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that everyone working on this play is aware of it – except for him and you.”

“I doubt that.” Takao gave a disbelieving laugh. “Seeing as he made it quite obvious earlier that he wouldn’t accept me as the replacement for Kojima because I’m a guy, I don’t think he likes me.”

“That’s probably because he’s shy, and he’d be embarrassed to kiss you, another guy, in front of an audience. But it doesn’t matter.” Kise waved a hand in dismissal. “If you don’t think he likes you, you don’t have to believe me. But I still think you should act in the play. You know all the lines, and you actually like him, so your dialogue won’t be too forced. I think it’ll be fine, but I’ve spoken to Midorimacchi and told him that we could remove the kiss if it’s easier for him. He said he’ll think about it.”

“I – I don’t know if I want to do it,” Takao mumbled. “He’ll see Kojima as me the whole time, and I don’t want him to have to pretend to like me if he actually doesn’t.”

“That’s what acting is.” Kise rolled his eyes. “Are you sure you still don’t want to do it?”

“I – uh – I’m not sure.” Takao bit his lip. “I’d feel stupid wearing a dress. But… I’ll ask Shin-chan if it’s okay if I act, just for the sake of the play, and if he still doesn’t feel comfortable with it, I won’t.”

“You do know that if Midorimacchi says no, the play will be doomed? You sure are dedicated,” Kise teased. “You must really love him.”

“Yeah.” Takao nodded. “I do.”

Surprised at Takao’s sudden honesty, Kise laughed. “Then why have you still not told him that?”

~

Takao made his way through the hallway, trying to think of how to ask Midorima, but when he saw him turn the corner, his brain froze.

“Ah, um, Shin-chan…”

He tried to avoid eye contact, not sure what to say, but Midorima grabbed his arm. “Takao. I’ll do it.”


	4. Takao's Debut

Takao hadn’t realised how nervous he actually was about playing the female lead until the first dress rehearsal. He’d managed to stay calm through each run-through – even the rather clichéd romantic lines and the awkward confession scene where the missing kiss was blatantly obvious – but now that he was about to try on the dreaded wig and gown, he could feel his heart rate increase ever so slightly.

Kise’s continuous stream of encouragement didn’t help to quell Takao’s nerves as he pulled the pale blue dress over his head. Fortunately, the sleeves were long and flowing, and the skirt fell all the way to the floor, concealing his muscled arms and legs.

Noticing his reflection in the dressing room mirror, Takao cringed and reddened immediately. “I look hideous.”

Kise laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “You look fine. And besides, I can imagine that you and your friends would have done stupid things like trying on your sisters’ clothing, right?”

Takao ignored Kise’s rather tactless joke. “I – I don’t want Shin-chan to see me like this…” he mumbled, blushing profusely and twisting his fingers together. “I may be in love with him, but I’m not a girl!”

“Ah, well.” Kise sighed theatrically. “The point of wearing the dress is to look more feminine.” He examined Takao closely and crossed his arms thoughtfully. “But you definitely need to wear some sort of shawl over the top; your shoulders are too broad and your waist isn’t thin enough to be convincing.”

“Well, thanks,” muttered Takao a little sullenly, still embarrassed. “Good to know that I don’t actually _look_ like a girl, despite having to pretend to be one.”

Kise chuckled as he rummaged through the costume box, before pulling out a soft pink shawl. “I think this will suit you perfectly.”

Takao’s heart sank as he lay the shawl on his shoulders. It really did look awful; Kise was probably denying it only because Takao was his last chance to make the play a success. But to be perfectly honest, Takao could hardly say that this play was going to work anyway. They were hopelessly unprepared, Midorima’s acting still hadn’t improved over the past two days, and Takao was starting to doubt himself.

~

Takao emerged incredibly reluctantly from the dressing room fifteen minutes later, with his hair and full makeup done. He expected the others to make snide remarks, or even seem mildly amused, but they seemed quite impressed by Kise’s makeup skills.

“Oh, you see, Takao actually has quite delicate facial features, so it’s easy to put makeup on him and make him look like a girl,” bragged Kise, clearly basking in the attention.

Midorima cleared his throat after what seemed like a long moment of contemplation. “Ah… well, you don’t look _too_ bad, Takao,” he said gruffly, and Takao’s heart pounded.

“Thanks,” he murmured, secretly pleased that Midorima had commented on his appearance.

“Of course he doesn’t look bad!” Kise chimed in. “What do you think, Akashicchi?”

Akashi tilted his head to the side. “I agree. I’d also like to point out that Shintarou looks quite handsome in his costume too, right, Kazunari?”

Takao flushed with annoyance. “What are you trying to say?” It frustrated him that Akashi had the nerve, after all this, to proclaim potential attraction towards Midorima.

“Heh?” To Takao’s surprise, Akashi seemed genuinely confused. “Kazunari, I think you misunderstand. I’m simply–”

“That’s not helping, Akashicchi,” Kise pointed out, quite obviously trying not to laugh, but Takao couldn’t understand what exactly was going on that was apparently so amusing.

Akashi shook his head in what seemed to be resignation, and Kise said to Takao in an undertone, “Don’t mind Akashicchi. I think he’s trying, in his own way.”

Takao tried to protest that he honestly couldn’t see what Akashi was trying to achieve, but Kise interrupted, announcing, “Takao and Midorimacchi, you’ll have a costume change about a quarter of the way through.” Noticing the sudden flash of concern on Takao’s face, Kise added, “Don’t worry, you’ll start off in that dress and change into a tunic, so you can spend as much time as necessary putting the dress on.”

Takao’s mortification caused a smattering of laughter from the others. “I – I won’t need that much time to get dressed!” he blurted, annoyed that Kise had pointed it out.

“If you say so.”

~

Thanks to Midorima’s stiffness and Takao’s unnatural stage fright, it was past midnight by the time they finally managed a perfect run-through. The stage hands and other cast members had almost given up in frustration, only to be persuaded to stay by the desperate Kise. Even Akashi had suggested that perhaps it would be best if they left it until the next morning, but Kise had insisted that if they couldn’t get it to work there and then, there would be no hope for them in tomorrow’s performance.

“You really have left this too late, Ryouta,” Akashi mumbled through a mouthful of instant noodles. “If you’d told us a few days earlier, we wouldn’t be in such a rush to prepare. And I’m sure you could have found better actors somewhere.”

Kise sighed, but with none of his usual flamboyancy. “Believe me, it was a last resort.”

Akashi shrugged. “Heh… Well, at least Shintarou and Kazunari finally managed to perform it. It took so long that I was beginning to think you would have to call off the play. They’re quite hopeless, really.”

“I had faith in them.” Kise shook his head with a tired smile. “But Akashicchi, you’re really not making it any better, you know. If you’d stop saying such confusing things, Takao wouldn’t be so stressed.”

Akashi’s eyes widened in shock. “What do you mean?”

“You tried to tell Takao not to worry about you going after Midorimacchi, but he thought you were trying to challenge him. And then you seemed to think it would be a good idea to ask Takao if he thought Midorimacchi looked handsome. Honestly.” Kise laughed in exasperation. “I’m not sure what exactly you’re trying to achieve by doing this, but I don’t think it’s working.”

Akashi leaned back in his chair. “As pathetic as it may sound, I was actually trying to help them.” He swirled his noodles around the cup in contemplation. “However, it seems you’ve been doing a better job at that, Ryouta.”

Kise laughed to hide his guilt. He never should have put Takao into that position, he realised, even if he thought it was for his own good. After seeing Takao’s face when he heard Midorima’s original reservations towards acting with him, Kise knew that he had made a thoughtless decision.

As though reading his thoughts, Akashi said, “You have to make sure this works. If it doesn’t, you’ll have humiliated them both. And right now, it doesn’t seem like this play has helped them to realise their mutual feelings.”

“I know.” After a momentary pause, he continued, “I just hope that when they finally perform, it’ll be more natural for them. What we need is for Midorimacchi to realise that they’re acting out their own romance. It’s like Otsuka and Kojima are just a metaphor for what’s happening. Just a play on words.”

Akashi glanced over to where Midorima and Takao sat slightly apart, neither daring to make eye contact. “Their friendship has certainly been challenged by this. But I believe that if your plan succeeds, their relationship will come together well.”

“Mm.” Kise stifled a yawn. “It’s been a long day. You two should get some sleep,” he declared, walking over to Midorima and Takao.

“What?” Midorima’s gaze narrowed. “I was going to go home.”

“I don’t think Takao should be pulling that awful rickshaw at this time of night,” Kise reasoned with an almost devilish grin as he innocently rested his chin on his hand. “And we _really_ don’t need either of you to get into a traffic accident anytime soon. We can quickly prepare some mattresses for you.”

“Fine.” Midorima was clearly irritable, but tired enough that Kise knew he wouldn’t resist.

Takao yawned widely and subconsciously leaned his head on Midorima’s shoulder. It wasn’t until the latter flinched, reddening, that Takao realised what he’d been doing. “Oh – sorry, Shin-chan!” he murmured sleepily, moving away.

Feeling worse each second he watched them, Kise said quickly, “I’ll get some mattresses for us all. There’s no point any of us going home now.”

~

Midorima was already sleeping soundly by the time Takao set up his own mattress backstage. He’d taken as much time as he possibly could fussing around and preparing his costumes, just to avoid having to speak to Midorima again. Takao knew he should’ve just acted the way he usually did, but he was nervous for so many reasons that he decided it might be better just to go to sleep.

After pushing his own mattress just that tiny bit closer to Midorima’s, Takao snuck a glance at his sleeping friend. His fringe – which looked so soft that Takao had to resist touching it – had fallen to the side of his face, and up close Takao could see every eyelash. Midorima looked so peaceful and content – such a difference to how Takao felt. His stomach crawled with nerves as he thought about the play, but the greatest of all his worries was that Midorima would hate it.

If Midorima hated acting in a romance because of him, that would mean he’d definitely hate an actual romance with him.

 _I can’t help that now_ , he told himself, pulling up his blankets. There was nothing he could do anymore except wait and see how it would all turn out.

“Night, Shin-chan,” he whispered, and fell asleep almost immediately.


	5. Closing Act

Sudden nerves engulfed Takao as he stood in the wings, trying not to shake while he listened to Kise announce the play to the audience.

 _Audience._ He wondered exactly how many people were sitting there in the darkness, waiting for the curtain to rise on the first scene. He twisted his fingers together, tugging at the corner of his nail as another wave of apprehension washed over him.

“Calm down,” muttered Midorima’s deep voice from behind him. “It doesn’t matter that there are people watching, or that you might make a mistake. It’s the same when we play basketball.” After a momentary pause, he added, “I wasn’t meaning to comfort you, of course. It’s just that your fidgeting was irritating me.”

Takao smiled slightly, despite himself. “Of course, Shin-chan.”

Kise’s introduction neared to a close, and the prompts motioned to Midorima to get ready. As Midorima strode rather stiffly to the edge of the curtain, he placed a hand on Takao’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

Takao’s heart fluttered at Midorima’s touch, and he could have sworn that the hand lingered there for slightly longer than expected before Midorima stepped into the light.

“Otsuka!” called a student Kise had persuaded to act at the last minute. “Where are you going?”

Takao watched as Midorima slid his hands into his pockets, attempting to feign innocence. “I’m looking for Kojima-san,” he replied in stilted tones. “Have you seen her?”

The other student forced a grin. “Looking for her? Do you honestly think she’s going to get lost?”

“Of course not.” Midorima attempted light-heartedness, but he nearly choked on the following lines. “I just want us to spend as much time together as possible on the journey.”

In the wings, Takao found himself stifling a giggle as the audience laughed uncertainly. Midorima was utterly hopeless at acting the role of an earnest, foolish protagonist in love, but there was something almost cute about it.

A blush ran up Takao’s cheeks. _Cute_. What was he thinking?

Takao had to suppress a sigh as the light glinted off the gold trimming on Midorima’s coat, accentuating the lighter flecks in his green hair. He looked so mature – dashing, even – that Takao almost wished he really was Kojima, despite her rather eccentric costume choices. He’d give anything just to have Midorima look at him in the way that Otsuka was supposed to look at Kojima – although Midorima’s inability to maintain eye contact in their awkward exchanges of dialogue did spoil the effect a little.

Takao was so caught up with his own thoughts that the prompt beside him had to nudge him repeatedly. “Takao-kun! It’s nearly your turn!”

He jolted back to reality, silently berating himself for getting distracted by Midorima. That could wait until after the play was over, he reminded himself, and, taking a deep breath, emerged from the wings.

After taking a moment to recover from the blinding light as he entered the stage, Takao stumbled through his lines, hoping desperately that his voice was high enough, that his wig looked realistic enough, that his shawl was still in place–

Midorima grabbed his hands, and the world fell silent. They’d practised this scene before, but each time, Midorima had barely let their fingertips touch for more than a second. But now… He stood, staring in shock at their clasped hands, before remembering that he still had to act.

“I – I’m not entirely sure what you’re doing, Otsuka-kun,” he said, licking his suddenly parched lips. The audience seemed far too large, and he could feel their eyes on him, waiting. “I thought you said you wanted to leave quickly.”

There was a smattering of laughter from the audience as Takao pulled his hands away.

“Oh… I…” Midorima’s voice sounded far less strained than it had previously, and his shoulders had relaxed slightly. Takao hoped, secretly, that it was because Midorima was enjoying himself, that it felt the same to him as when they played basketball together. “Ah, yes, let’s go. We shouldn’t slow the others down.”

They sauntered offstage, and as soon as he was safely backstage, Takao pulled frantically at his dress, struggling to undress with such shaking hands. Once again, Midorima had to reassure him, “You’ll be fine. Just put the tunic on.”

In the darkness, Takao could hardly see what he was doing, and Midorima’s presence wasn’t helping. He couldn’t get the gown off over his shoes, and once he finally managed it, he was fairly sure his tunic was around the wrong way.

And he couldn’t help the gnawing anxiety about the scene fast approaching.

~

Thirty minutes.

It had only been thirty minutes since the play began, and they were already over halfway through, but to Takao, it felt like a lifetime. He had garbled his words far too many times than he liked to admit, and he lost all concentration each time Midorima made an attempt at flirting with his character – not to mention how each comedic scene, no matter how hard he had worked to finally perfect it, had ended up with Takao embarrassed, frustrated, and wishing he could simply disappear.

At least the audience was amused, he thought ruefully, but it was hard to enjoy it when his mistakes were the cause of their entertainment. Once or twice, he could have sworn he saw Midorima suppressing a smile, which would have made him feel better if not for his decision that once the play was over, he would confess his feelings and prepare for the worst.

He had come to realise, over the past three days, just how much Midorima actually meant to him – but he needed to know, once and for all, what Midorima truly felt. If Midorima felt no attraction whatsoever, Takao would cease his flirting without question. It would be painful, but that was what he was willing to do for Midorima.

But right now, the play was more important, he decided, putting on a show of being totally oblivious to Midorima’s flirting. “Otsuka-kun, sometimes I really don’t understand you at all.”

Midorima stepped closer. “I don’t understand you either, Kojima-san… But perhaps you could help me to.”

Takao’s blush was real as he looked down at his hands, his mind blank. There was something far too real about this situation – perhaps it was just his nerves enhancing it, or perhaps Midorima was actually taking his role seriously.

Midorima turned away. “I can’t continue like this, in the hope that maybe one day you’ll notice me. So, Kojima-san, I’ll tell you this now: I love you, more than you can imagine. But I need to know your answer.”

Takao blinked rapidly, his eyes stinging suddenly. Midorima had uttered those words countless times – but this was the last time he would ever hear them. He gingerly took a step towards Midorima, his heart pounding in his ears as he gazed into those emerald green eyes. “I…” He took a shaking breath. “Otsuka-kun, I think I might be in love with you.”

His voice cracked slightly as he said it, but Midorima smiled – a genuine smile – and placed both hands on Takao’s shoulders. “Kojima-san.” His voice was deep and mellow – almost _tender_ , realised Takao in astonishment. “It took you long enough.”

Takao didn’t even have a chance to wonder, when Midorima moved closer again. His eyes widened as Midorima leaned down towards him. There was no way Midorima was going to kiss him, he told himself; he had demanded so adamantly for the kiss to be removed. Yet their breath mingled and Takao’s mind emptied entirely as Midorima’s lips met his own.

The kiss seemed to last forever, and when they finally pulled apart, he was no longer Kojima – he was Takao, and it was Midorima, not Otsuka, who stood before him.

“I’ve been waiting for so long to tell you that,” Midorima said, and Takao started to panic inwardly. That wasn’t Midorima’s next line, and the response Takao had practised wouldn’t make sense. He had to stay focused, or everything they’d worked on would come to nothing.

“I – I,” Takao stammered, trying to come up with something to say, but when Midorima took his hand, he relaxed. Perhaps the best thing to say was the truth, he decided. “I always wanted to hear you say that to me, but I was too scared to confess to you. I – I’ve admired you for such a long time, but in this time we’ve spent together, I finally realised how important you are to me.”

“Kojima-san.” Midorima’s eyes shone. “I’m glad we met.”

~

The backstage area was abuzz with chatter when Midorima, Takao and the others returned.

“Midorimacchi!” cried Kise, running towards them. “I’m so proud of you!”

Midorima looked slightly taken aback. “For what?”

Kise rolled his eyes. “The _kiss_ , obviously! You should’ve seen the audience’s reactions; it must have been the highlight of the play!”

“Oh…” Midorima averted his gaze. “I didn’t really care _that_ much about the play… I just thought it would be fitting.”

Midorima’s eyes flickered to Takao, standing by his side, whose heart leapt. With a grin, Takao said, “Well, I didn’t have any objections to it,” and Midorima blushed scarlet.

“I guess you were successful in the end, Ryouta.” Akashi shook his head with a small smile. “Though you did go about it in rather unorthodox methods.”

Kise laughed, feigning innocence. “Anything for the play, Akashicchi~”

~

An orange glow spread across the sky as the sun began to sink below the horizon, and Midorima turned to Takao. He cleared his throat and looked down at his hands, the internal struggle evident on his face. Finally, he mumbled, “Takao… Ah… Did – did you mean what you said on stage?” He bit his lip, avoiding eye contact as a blush crept up his face.  

Takao smiled fondly. “Of course, Shin-chan.” After a brief pause, he added, “And the kiss? Did you mean that?”

Midorima turned an even deeper red, before tilting his head and allowing his soft lips to graze Takao’s own. Speechless due to Midorima’s sudden display of affection, Takao simply stood and stared at him.

Midorima turned away, characteristically embarrassed, and headed towards the rickshaw. “Don’t just stand there. I don’t want to have to pedal this thing in the dark.”

Takao’s eyes widened. “You’ll pedal?”

“I just thought you might want a break.”

“How sweet – you care about me.” Takao beamed, slinging his arm around Midorima’s shoulders.

To Takao’s surprise, rather than shrugging away his touch, Midorima relaxed into it. “Maybe a little.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! If you’ve got any suggestions or want to talk about midotaka (or other ships), I’m on tumblr @midotaka-is-destiny

**Author's Note:**

> thanks again to my editor :)


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